


Against the Pull, for You

by Krayolacolor



Series: Creepypasta x Readers [8]
Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Creepypasta x Reader - Freeform, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Reader-Insert, Tourette's Syndrome, interconnected story, part of a series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:42:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29639691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krayolacolor/pseuds/Krayolacolor
Summary: How it came to this You aren't sure, You just wanted to help him... Now You're in too deep to ever get out, the water over Your head, but he was still fighting. For You.
Relationships: Tobias Erin "Toby" Rogers|Ticci Toby/Reader
Series: Creepypasta x Readers [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2177397
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	1. How you Meet

**Author's Note:**

> First, I'd like to mention that for most of these stories the ages are vague to let people project onto them more, but, the reader is not an adult going after a teenager, both the reader and Toby are teenagers, the reader lives alone as part of a study/work program, this won't be discussed until later in the story, I just wanted to clear it up early.
> 
> Key:  
> (y/n) = your name, (y/b/f) = your best friend, (e/c) = eye color, (y/f) = your friend,

You step in line at your local IHOP. You stand patiently behind a tall boy, he was rather thin and wore a black turtleneck and dark jeans, he seems very jittery as he taps his hands on the counter.

A few minutes later he is seated and so are you, he sits quietly at a booth across from you his dark brown eyes stare down at his coffee tiredly, blinking every so often, as he fiddles with his menu.

 _He’s kinda cute._ You think looking over as he orders quietly.

 _He looks lonely…_ You think as he sits looking out the window then back to his coffee mug.

You make up your mind to move over and talk to him. Quietly you slip over into the seat across from him in his booth. “Umm… Hi.” You say.

His eyes fly up from his cup and he jumps a bit, one hand quickly moving up to cover the left side of his jaw and cheek. His hands twitch, tapping the table three times.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to scare you, it’s just you looked kinda lonely and I just…” Your voice breaks off when you hear a soft noise. Like one of those pull whistles. The boy ticked.

Upon making the noise he becomes even more twitchy and nervous looking. He ticks again. Another whistle.

“Hey it’s okay, Tourettes right? You don’t have to freak out or anything, I don’t find it odd. It’s okay.” You say and a considerable amount of tension leaves the boy’s body as he sighs.

“I-I’m Toby…” The boy says tapping his hand on the table, three times, a tic, his other hand still covering his face, he blinks, scrunching his nose while he does, another tic, you guess.

“I’m (Y/n), It's nice to meet you Toby.” You smile warmly.

The waiter walks over with a plate of pancakes and awkwardly takes your order having not known you were going to move tables.

You also order a plate of pancakes before turning back to Toby to talk. For the most part you talk and he listens, making a few comments here and there. He relaxes considerably as you talk and you don’t look at him weird or laugh at his tics and twitches, you don’t even pause when his neck randomly jerks to the side and cracks, though he looks slightly mortified for a few moments before he calms down when you go on with conversation normally.

The only thing you find even remotely odd about Toby is that he won’t take his hand away from his face. He talks and eats, eventually becoming more open and participating more in conversation, but he never moves his hand.

At first you think it is a nervous habit or something, but now he seems far too relaxed and calm to be keeping up a nervous habit.

“Toby?” You bring yourself to ask.

“Y-yeah, (Y/n-n)?” He answers.

“Why do you keep your hand on the side of your face?”

His eyes go wide and he starts tapping his hand again, three times, then again, the tics must act up when he's nervous.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say if you don’t want to.” You tell him softly.

He swallows thickly, blinking twice and scrunching his nose, then moves his hand down. A ripped scratch like scar stands out darkly on his pale skin just to the left of his mouth. “I-I was in a-” his neck cracks again, “a f-fire… I g-got knocked in-into a counter c-corner or so-something like th-that.” He shakes a bit from the memory. “I-I didn’t even kn-know until th-they got m-me out…" two blinks and a nose scrunch, "I c-can’t feel pain.” He says pulling his eyes back up to meet yours.

You aren’t sure what to say. “So you can’t feel pain, like physical pain? You can feel things, just not pain?” You ask a bit confused.

“Yeah, y-you could lo-lob my arm r-right off and I-I wouldn’t even n-notice.” Toby laughs a smile pulling on his lips, he coughs, another tic.

You find yourself laughing as well until your phone interrupts you by buzzing in your pocket.

It’s a text, ‘Where are you, we were going to meet up an hour ago, (Y/n).’ It’s from (y/f) you totally forgot.

“Aww man, I’m so sorry Toby. I have to go, my friend and I planned a get-together like a month ago and I'm so late.” You leave the money for your food on the table. "But," you say before hastily scribbling your phone number on a napkin, "call me we’ll meet up sometime. I had a nice time talking Toby, hopefully I’ll see you around.” You smile.

“Yeah, Th-thanks (Y-Y/n) I had a nice t-time talking… bye.” He waves a bit as you walk away.


	2. Are We Friends Yet?

It’s been a few days since your meeting with Toby and you haven’t heard from him. You wonder what he’s doing sometimes and if maybe he might give you a call.

These thoughts are interrupted by your phone ringing, you check the number and it’s unfamiliar to you. Hesitantly you answer the phone.

“(Y-Y/n)...?” Toby’s voice asks on the other end of the line, his voice is slightly muffled and you can hear shouting and a loud crash in the background. He coughs, a few times.

“Toby, what’s wrong, what’s going on over there?” You ask worry for the boy gripping your chest.

“C-can you m-meet me s-s-somewher-re-re?" He whistles. "I-I need to g-get out of-of here…” Toby says his voice shaking horribly.

Quickly you give him a place that you can meet him and fifteen minutes later he’s climbing into your car. As you drive back to your place Toby is a shivering mess with tears brimming his eyes. He's ticking more frequently, stress, you think.

The second you get to your house you help the taller boy out of the car and pull him into a hug. “Talk to me Toby…” You say leading him into the house and sitting him down on the couch. You go into the kitchen and start a pot of coffee before returning to the couch to sit with Toby.

“What’s going on Toby?” You ask as you sit cross legged facing him on the couch.

In a split second Toby goes from being on the verge of tears upset to having the coldest expression you’ve ever seen on anyone. His hands twitch, not in a tic more like if he was holding something it would be smashed into the farthest wall.

“My dad.” He growls the words any stutter absent from his dark tone. “N-now that my s-sister is g-go-” His neck cracks interrupting the word he is trying to force out, “gone he’s going t-to go b-back to his old w-ways…." He blinks twice and scrunched his nose, "My m-mom, she won’t l-leave him even w-when he g-get’s like this… Now I-I don’t care w-what he does t-to me, I c-can’t feel it, but w-when he tr-tries to hurt her I-I get in th-the way, I-I won’t let h-him touch h-her. But…” His tears are back and falling down his pale face, “I’m too sm-small, a-and he’s dr-drunk and G-God I-I left th-them…” He buries his face in his hands.

On reflex you pull him into a hug and he buries his face in the crook of your neck. You can feel his nose scrunch up with his tics. You stay like that for a while as he calms down. A few minutes later the wail of the coffee pot forces you to let go of Toby and get up.

You walk back with two cups of the hot drink and Toby takes one gladly. “Th-thank you, (Y/n).” He says before taking a sip, tapping the mug three times. You both sit silently for a minute sipping your drinks.

“Th-thank you, (Y/n), I-I know that w-we just met an-and everything, but I-I don’t know wh-what I would’ve d-done if you h-hadn’t picked up the ph-phone...” Toby says setting his cup down on the coffee table.

“I’m glad you called, it’s not good for you to be in a situation like that. If you need to talk or want me to call someone, I’m always here. You shouldn’t have to deal with that.” You say softly.

Toby’s eyes gloss over as he looks passed you. “Thank you, b-but I’m going t-to get it taken c-care of.” He says, but his voice has lost its emotion, he coughs, but it's not the same as his tic.

“Toby?” You don’t exactly know what to say about this.

“I-I need to g-go home, (Y/n).” He says standing up, almost robotically, the cough happening again, maybe it's a different tic? You wonder.

“I’ll drive you back.” You say standing up.

“No, I’m f-fine. I-I know the w-way there.” He says not really looking at you as much as he is looking through you. He walks over to the door, but turns back to you before leaving, “I’ll call you, (Y/n), b-bye.” He smiles softly his voice back to normal, he whistles.

Despite your confusion you smile back and he leaves.


	3. I Think I'm F-Falling For You

The next thing you hear about Toby is that he's missing. A few days after he called you it was all over the news, family home caught fire, father beaten and stabbed multiple times, mother alive, son missing and suspected for the murder and arson. You worry, not understanding, not knowing why when you just talked to him, you offered to help him, why would he throw his life away like that?

There's a knock at the door, you're expecting your friend, (y/b/f), over tonight. You peek through the window and jump back, Toby is standing right outside your door, looking nervous, looking around, afraid, he covers his mouth, coughing, not a tic. There is a moment where you're afraid, holding your phone, the police are a phone call away, Toby's face is all over the news, you aren't even sure how he got here unnoticed, but… This is Toby…

You text your friend, tell them not to come, you're going to your mom's, she called worried.

You open the door carefully, "Toby?" You ask, (e/c) meeting dark brown.

Toby blinks twice and scrunched his nose, it's definitely Toby, "Can I c-come in (Y-Y/n)?" He asks softly, there's blood at the corner of his mouth, he covers his mouth to cough again, you notice the same on his hands. "Please..?" He looks desperate and afraid, looking over his shoulder.

You let him in, it's Toby, he's scared, something bad clearly happened… "What happened?" You ask quietly, closing the blinds and turning to look at him, but he's not there. "Toby?" You call out, walking to the kitchen, finding him rifling through your cabinets for your coffee. "Toby!"

The boy jumps, "Y-yeah (Y/n)?" He taps the counter three times.

"What are you doing?"

He holds up the coffee can, "Coffee?" He whistles.

"No, Toby, what are you doing here? What happened? I need you to talk to me Toby, you're wanted for the murder of your father! I can't just keep you here without knowing what happened!" You're worried and scared, and everything is so much, you didn't mean to raise your voice. You regret it instantly when Toby flinches, pulling back into the counter. "I'm sorry-" you say quietly, "I'm scared, I didn't mean to yell, I won't anymore, I promise." You assure him.

Toby sets the coffee down. "He-He got real l-loud in my-my head, telling me what to-to-to-to do… and m-my sister, she d-d-died, but he-he was using her l-like a p-p-pup-p-p-pet, m-made me mad… It sounded like, l-like static… I couldn't cont-t-trol myself, and then the screaming, he was screaming… he didn't stop until I- Stop!" Toby grabs his head, you jump back when he shouts. "I'm not going to hurt her! I'm not! I'm not! Shut up-" Toby starts coughing, covering his mouth as blood trickles down his palm, his knees shake and he leans on the counter, holding himself up for a moment before he collapses.

You can't move, just stare until Toby stops moving. You carefully walk over, checking his pulse, fast, but it seems okay, he's breathing, passed out from the attack, whatever it was… you do your best to move him off the floor, he's surprisingly light under all that heavy fabric, you worry, despite the situation, that he's not eating enough. You get him to the couch, and sigh, you take off his shoes and get a blanket, but hesitate, taking off Toby's jacket before covering him.

Toby looks peaceful, breathing softly, relaxed, unlike his previous attack. You don't see how this boy could hurt a fly. Even with the scar on his face he doesn't look scary.

You make coffee and when it's finished you check to see if Toby is awake.

The couch is empty. "Toby?" You hear water running and look in the hall bathroom. Toby stands in front of the mirror, muttering quietly, talking almost to someone.

"N-no, (Y-Y-Y/n) isn't like th-th-that…. She's nice.. You can't, you can't hurt her…" his neck jerks in one of his less common tics, the one that cracks his neck from time to time.

"Who are you talking to?"

Toby jumps, turning to look at you, "N-n-n-no… one…" the words strain him, and he looks down, two blinks and a scrunched nose.

"I made coffee, come get a drink. You can tell me about it all after you calm down." You say holding out your hand.

Toby looks at your hand, hesitates, then takes it letting you take him to the kitchen for coffee.

The boy sits on the table, not at the table, he's fine on it, and proceeds to tell you about the creature, and his father's abuse, and the mess his sister's death caused, and the fire. He admits to killing his father, but the creature set the fire. He sounds delusional, but you can't help but believe him, he's so focused, so intent on telling you everything he can be doesn't even tic.

You're confused, it doesn't make sense, not fully, the whole thing makes your head ache, like there is static in your brain, but you ignore it the best you can.

"(Y/n), I don't know what to do… He, keeps telling me to do things, he keeps telling me things, I hear her voice, I keep having the dreams about every bad thing that's happened, everything I've done, what He wants me to do…" Toby picks at the wraps over his hand, more on his palm and wrist than his fingers, though his fingers are covered in scarring.

"Who is "He"?" You ask finally.

Toby shakes his head, "The less you kn-know about him, the less l-likely he'll try and t-t-take you. The more likely I c-can convi-vi-vince him that I don't n-need to hurt you…"

You nod and sigh, looking at the time, "It's late Toby… do you.. want to stay here? For tonight?"

"Thank you, (Y-Y/n)... I d-don't know what I-I'd do without y-you." Toby slips off the table and hugs you, tight, you're a bit startled, but carefully you hug the taller boy back, sighing softly. You felt safe, even with the buzz in the back of your mind growing louder.


	4. CrushCrushCrush

The next day you wake up to make breakfast for you and Toby, and Toby sits on the table scrambling eggs while you make bacon. It felt normal, and nice, you tell Toby about school, complain about midterms, and have a good time together.

After breakfast Toby says he has to go, he won't tell you where or why, but he insists he has to leave. You ask if it's because of Him. The lack of response tells you everything you need to know.

Toby hugs you tightly and you make him promise to stay safe, he does and you kiss his cheek before he leaves, making him blush softly.

That night (y/f) comes over, so you don't feel lonely, and you turn on the news after dinner. The first thing you see is a body, burned beyond any recognition. The police say the body has been identified as Tobias Erin Rogers, and burning has been declared an act of suicide after he murdered his father. You don't want to believe it, he promised you, the static in your head makes it ache, and you start to cry.

"What's wrong?" (Y/f) asks.

You sniffle, wiping your eyes, "I, I knew him…"

Your friend hugs you and you both watch a cute movie to calm down after all the fuss.

That night you lay in your room alone, staring at the door, (Y/f) asleep on the couch down stairs. You hear the curtains on the window rustle and feel a chill breeze, looking over the window is open. You could have sworn it was shut. Getting up from bed, you walk over and shut it, when you turn around you hardly suppress a scream when you see a boy in a mask on your bed.

The boy quickly pulls up the goggles and yanks down the mouth guard to reveal, "Toby?"

He smiles, whistling, "H-hi, (Y/n)."

You dash over and hug him, the static in your head getting louder. Toby smells like smoke, and something awful, but you hug him tighter. "I thought you were dead…" you mumble into his chest.

Toby hugs you back, "He's not goin-ng to l-let me die a-any time soo-oon."

Pulling away from him with a pinched expression you don't like the sound of that.

"Can I use y-your sh-sh-shower, (Y/n)?" Toby asks before you can question him.

You sigh, "Sure, do you need a change of clothes? I um, don't know if I have anything…" you admit.

Toby laughs softly, "J-just throw m-mine in the w-wash." He taps his goggles twice before tossing them on the bed with his mouth guard.

"Oh, sure thing, just set them outside the door. I'll take them down stairs. I might have some sweats you can borrow until they're dry."

"Awesome, I hav-ven't showered in like f-five days!"

"Ew! Gross," you laugh and push him towards the door, "get out of my room, nasty boy!"

"H-hey!" Toby blinks and scrunched his nose, "It's not m-my fault He said I h-had to do some weir-eird trials to get into th-the house!" The boy huffed as he opened the door.

You pause, "The thing that made you kill your dad has a house?" You ask as the static buzzes louder.

Toby nods as you follow him down the hall, "Mhmm. Other k-kids too." Toby whistles. "But I only m-met one. He-he-he-he wore a m-ma-ma-ma-m-mask- Fuck!" He hisses and hits his temple with his palm, "Shut up- I'll stop! I'll stop!" He growls.

You step back, looking concerned but not knowing what to do.

Toby coughs hard into the elbow of his jacket, leaving blood stains as he whips his mouth. "Sorry… (Y/n)... He says I can't tell you…"

You swallow, "It's okay… just shower, okay? If you need anything I'll be down the hall, just don't be too loud, I have a friend over."

Toby freezes, "Th-th-th-th-there's som-m-m-meone else h-h-he-here?" He asks, tapping the wall three times, then again, then again.

"Yeah, so be quiet-"

"They need to leave."

"What? No, she's asleep-"

"He's not going to be happy if I am here and she is here and you are here and I don't kill her- I barely convinced Him I shouldn't kill you, if He knows she's here and I was here at the same time with you, He's going to be pissed at me, and she has to go right now or you're going to hate me, because He's to make me-me-me-me-me-me," Toby cracks his neck, "kill her."

"Toby you can't be serious-"

"Deadly. Deadly serious. I'm serious, very, very serious- please, I don't want to hurt more people who don't deserve it…"

"... you,"

"Killed the boy in the woods, the boy, the boy they found in the woods. Burned him, burned him three times, burned him until there wasn't anything left. Smashed his teeth out, crushed them, smashed, hacked, crushed, smashed them out so they couldn't ever find who he was so they'd think I was dead. Because if I'm alive people will hunt me down, hunt me, hunt me and arrest me, hunt and track and find me, hunt hunt hunt me down. And He'll be mad, mad, mad, pissed, mad, angry, mad, mad, mad because that makes me less useful and more of a problem than he cares about. So I had to, but I don't want to, didn't want to, didn't want to. He's just so loud- He's so loud- He's so loud- static, static, static, screaming, static, loud, loud, loud!" Toby grips his head hard, pulling at his hair.

You back up and dash down stairs, "Hey, hey, hey, (y/f)! Wake up!" You hiss.

(Y/f) snaps awake, "What? What's wrong?" 

"You need to go home, right now."

"Why?"

You are too panicked right now to tell the truth, "My mom, my mom called, my brother got into a wreck and I need to go to the hospital."

"Shit, do you need me to drive you?"

"No, I just have to lock the house so you should go home."

Your friend is skeptical, but your frazzled so they head out with you to their car and you drive towards the hospital until you know they aren't around and circle back to your house.

You unlock the door, "Toby…?" You call quietly. You hear the shower running upstairs and sigh softly. What on earth were you getting into for this boy?


	5. Heart to Heart

When Toby pokes his head out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel around his hips, you flush even as he doesn't seem too embarrassed. You stand in front of the door, holding a pair of your brother's sweats, staring at Toby for longer than you probably should have. But Toby was covered in bruises, all over his neck and wrists, the dark circles under his eyes seem to match the black blue color of them, his hands are scarred, and he's so thin, you can see his ribs with every breath he takes. The boy covers his chest after another second, "... (Y/n)…"

You blink, blushing darker, "Sorry." You hold out the pants and look away from him. Toby whistled and shut the door, you sigh and wall down to the laundry room, checking the drier.

It's too late to make coffee, but you make Toby some bedtime tea and let him sit in your room with you, telling you as vaguely as possible, about what he knows is going to happen to him.

You aren't sure when you fall asleep, but you wake up when there is light filtering through your window. You blink your eyes open and let out a startled squeak. Toby jerks back from where he had been laying beside you, staring at you while you slept. He was blushing bright red and your face felt hot as an oven. "Toby!"

"S-sorry, (Y-y-y/n)- I was just- n-n-not being… creepy…." He ducks his head, looking at you from the corner of his eye.

You flop back onto your pillow, "Toby-" you groan, "why are you still in my room?"

Toby shrugged and made a non-communal sound with half a hand motion that didn't tell you anything. You raise a brow. Toby hunched his shoulders, "I have ins-somnia and looking at you was b-b-better than staring at th-th-the ceiling in the d-dark for eight hours…" he mutters eventually.

Sighing you brush your hair back and sit up, "You wanna help me make breakfast?" You ask.

Toby perks up and nods. He leaves after breakfast again and you call your brother to tell him you lied about him being in a wreck and asking if he'd play along if anyone asked and tell them it wasn't as bad as it seemed and he was fine. He agrees.

Toby continues to show up in your room at night, often dirty, with new bruises on his legs and arms, but he always seemed to be okay. He uses your shower and lays in your bed and you let him because you're afraid something is going to happen to him.

When you ask about the bruises Toby tells you he's training, but not what for, though you guess it's for the He that Toby refers to. The one he can't name, the one that made him kill his father and that boy, the one that made him freeze up in fear and tick out of control or stare through you with that glassy look of someone who isn't in their own body anymore…

It's weirdly normal, having Toby around. When you wake up to him looking at you so softly you can't help but blush. When you make breakfast and Toby is determined not to mess anything up with a tick, but you never care if he makes a mess or not, it's not like he means it. When you sit on your bed and talk for hours and hours about nothing until you fall asleep… When you find your hands worrying over Toby's bruises and scars and he looks so vulnerable like he might cry because he isn't sure how you care so much about him when he's as fucked up as he thinks he is.

"Toby?" You ask one night after laying with your eyes shut, lost in your thoughts.

The boy jumps, having thought you went to sleep, "Yeah, (Y-y/n)?" He asks.

You open your eyes to look at him, "Are you going to leave after… He let's you… into the house?" You ask softly.

Toby goes quiet on you, and you aren't sure if he's going to answer you until, "He doesn't like m-me sp-spend-ding time with you… He's only let-let me because in th-the long run, being h-here instead-d of on the st-st-streets-s-s decreases-es my likelihood of b-b-being caught and y-you feed me to-too…" he looks away from you. "But… I, want to, come back.. to y-you."

You blush and hide your face in your pillow, the bed shifts and Toby is at your side. "(Y-y/n)?"

"Yeah..?"

"I.. I r-really… I like you.. a l-lot."

When you look up Toby is blushing too, you sit up and smile, leaning over quickly you kiss Toby's cheek, "I like you too, Toby."

The boy touches his cheek softly, and ducks his head away from you, embarrassed, but smiling softly. He practically tackles you with a hug, he's strong for how thin he is. You smile too, eyes shut, head buzzing like it seems to do whenever Toby is around these days. Everything is going to be fine, you are sure of that at least.


End file.
